how to mend tears
by missnazimova
Summary: Set between 1.6 and 1.7. On a night during the season Anna spends some enforced time alone with Miss O'Brien and dwells upon the life she sees before her as she tries her hardest to be friendly.


A/N: Because I love Sarah O'Brien and want her to be put with all the characters as much as possible and I had mixed feelings about Anna in the second series so I thought I'd take her back to her series one glory :) I've never written her before so any constructive criticism of her characterisation here would be greatly appreciated.

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Lady Rosamund Painswick was well-known about London, and indeed in the small village she had grown up in, for being filled with hospitality and always eager to welcome anyone into her presence. The same could not be said for her Housekeeper, a Mrs Swash, who Anna thought could not have been less welcoming if she'd tried.

The Head Housemaid thought it was a mark of how chilly the staff at 35 Eaton Square were that O'Brien, who had barely spoken to her since the incident before the flower show, had been scowling at various members of staff on both their behalf's. Normally Anna would offer the victims of O'Brien's ire a small smile of apology and roll her eyes behind the older woman's back, but she couldn't help but think Lady Rosamund's staff deserved the treatment. She'd never met such a surly, unpleasant bunch of individuals, each of them looking distinctly like they were up to something undefined and illicit, and Anna couldn't help but think John had had a lucky escape when his lordship had caught a summer cold and decided to stay in Yorkshire after all. It left her and O'Brien to look after her ladyship and all three of the girls whilst staying in Lady Rosamund's townhouse – Lady Grantham had not felt like opening Crawley House for the sake of a week before the season had even begun – and Anna never, _ever_ thought she'd be so grateful for being stuck with O'Brien. If there was anyone about to deflect all the Londoners' bad feeling away from her, it was Sarah O'Brien.

O'Brien had snarled and scowled at each of the staff in turn until one by one they had left the servant's room and headed upstairs to bed. Privately Anna had a feeling the exodus was more to do with them having completed their chores for the day and wanting to get a decent night's sleep before the small party - which would inevitably end up lavish by the time it's host was finished - Lady Rosamund was throwing the following day, but O'Brien seemed rather pleased with her achievement and Anna thought it was in her own best interest to keep her that way.

She glanced over their twin piles of clothes and sighed. She had to wonder quite what Lady Grantham was thinking of giving them all of this to cobble together by tomorrow. Only experience prevented her from showing the shock and irritation on her face. She knew it was their job but it wasn't as though the Countess and the girls didn't have enough clothes that would have been perfectly lovely for tomorrow afternoon, but no it simply had to be that dress with the sash that had an awkward tear in it and that beaded gown that had been the bane of Anna's life since Lady Edith had bought it two years ago. If she didn't know any better then she'd swear blind they all conspired to do it on purpose but then that would require Lady Edith and Lady Mary being involved in something together and relations had been getting frostier and frostier between the two sisters.

She looked over to O'Brien's pile and wondered, not for the first time, how it could be nearly as big as her own when she was supposed to be looking after all three of them. Technically speaking there seemed to be a silent understanding that O'Brien was supposed to help her, but it seemed the only person who was unaware of this arrangement was O'Brien herself and Anna knew all too well she could hardly force the lady's maid to do something that wasn't her job and she hadn't been given a direct order to do. And it wasn't as though the Countess was only asking for a scarf to be ironed. Reams of fabric in various states of readiness to be worn surrounded the area around O'Brien, like a moat of silk and fur. It did seem a bit much though, even for her ladyship…

"Is all of that for Lady Grantham?"

O'Brien levelled a look at her that told Anna in no uncertain terms that what she'd said had in fact been a bit stupid and would she kindly think before she opened her mouth in future?

"Do you think for a second I'd let 'er greatness go out wearing green, yellow, blue and purple mixed together?"

Anna chose not to answer that question - she had a feeling her theory that O'Brien could probably convince Lady Grantham she was wearing the finest invisible cloth in all the land if she tried would not be welcome. Instead she smiled and nodded towards the pile of clothes.

"Why's it there then?"

O'Brien huffed and it was clear that she had been waiting to complain about this for the half an hour they had been working in silence after the rest of the staff had hurried off to bed.

"The green and yellow one's Lady Rosamund's. _Apparently_ she's yet to find a lady's maid she wants to keep on beyond the trial period," her tone left Anna with no illusion about what O'Brien thought of this. "So I've been lumbered with lookin' after 'er for the foreseeable future. _Again_."

Despite her usual feeling about O'Brien's annoyed tones she had to concede that the older woman had a point. Lady Rosamund had become a bit notorious amongst the female staff at Downton who had been sent up to serve her because she never had a lady's maid. Anna wasn't quite sure who she believed but it was either because she was terribly frugal – O'Brien called it tight – despite her wealth or that she could be rather temperamental and was known to be something of a menace to try and undress after she'd partaken of her brother's brandy.

Privately Anna didn't think it helped that the rest of her staff were rather off-putting.

"Bad luck."

"Story of my bleedin' life."

Anna chose not to comment. She'd heard enough complaints to last her a lifetime and so returned to her own stitching. The silence echoed around them though and she never was one for sitting in unnecessary silences so Anna carefully put down her own work before looking up brightly.

"Shall I put the kettle on? I don't think five minutes will make much difference will it?"

O'Brien nodded and placed down her own work and Anna took that as the only indication of assent she was going to get. Habitually – technically they were here doing the same job after all, but she'd been a housemaid for too long not to follow tradition – she got out of her own seat and set about making two cups.

"I s'pose we should be grateful Lady Rosamund's only throwing the one party this week. Heaven knows what hour we'd 'ave been up to if she was having more."

O'Brien had a brief look of horror on her face at the very prospect before she replied.

"She's done it before. Years ago, before the girls started coming down too, she and 'er majesty used to be out every night and 'is lordship expected me to know where they were. Like I've got nothin' better to do with my own time than keep track of 'er."

Anna very much doubted there had been a single moment in which O'Brien had _not_ known precisely where Cora was but she chose not to comment on that. She was trying to be friendly after all. It was strange, she mused, that she had never really had to _try_ before with O'Brien. The woman had always been prickly but Anna had never found it a particular problem – perhaps it was her being thick skinned or perhaps she found it more difficult to forgive slights done against others?

She turned back around and handed the cup and saucer over.

"I think we can treat ourselves to a break."

O'Brien snorted but thankfully remained silent. She looked agitated in fact and as Anna blew on her tea she heard the distinct sounds of a boot tapping against the stone floor in an ever increasing rhythm. She smirked slyly and offered the other woman a respite.

"You want a cigarette don't you?"

"'m gasping."

"I'll stop here and get back to it."

"Don't be daft, come on, the air'll do you good."

Anna thought she was most probably right and returned the small jug of milk to the chilled larder before following the older woman out of the small servant's hall, down a passage until they reached the locked door they had come through when they arrived. There was no key in the door and Anna looked around the doorframe searching for the key, however there was nothing there.

"Mrs Swash must not like people to go out at night."

Anna, although not generally inclined to be confined by anyone, didn't think there was a great deal to be gained by possibly incurring the wrath of the formidable Mrs Swash and was quite prepared to turn back when O'Brien reached into her pocket and produced a key.

"Where did you get that?"

"Butler's pantry. The Housekeeper might think she's ruling the roost but everythin' goes through 'im. It's the same in every house. Well…" She rolled her eyes and pushed the key into the lock. "Except for ours o'course."

Anna allowed herself a smile at that. Whilst she certainly approached the pair with more respect she had to admit that they were unusual. She'd only ever worked at Downton of course but she'd seen plenty of other houses now and though she'd seen other Housekeepers of a formidable disposition, she'd never seen any that seemed quite as in charge as Mrs Hughes. Mr Carson may be the face of the household but she was most definitely running things.

"I wonder if this old battle-axe is as bad as Mrs Hughes when it comes to 'avin' bat-ears?"

Anna laughed quietly as O'Brien turned the forbidden key and silently opened the door, with more stealth than anyone in her position could reasonably have and it struck Anna that the other woman had undoubtedly done this before.

It was an unseasonably cool May in London and the night betrayed the chill more than any time of day, however, neither of the women noticed. They had both been born and raised somewhere much colder and upon alighting from the train earlier that week O'Brien had immediately watched Londoners hurrying past in thicker coats than the month would suggest and defiantly took her own off, declaring anyone born too far south to be pathetic and that the weather was middling at worst. Anna agreed with her and as they stepped into the tiny courtyard that led to the servant's entrance the night air hit her but did not make her shiver as it did back home. She jumped from one foot to the other vaguely, mostly for something to do, and earned herself a scowl.

"Don't tell me you're _cold_?"

Even if she had been Anna knew she wouldn't have ever admitted such a thing – it simply wasn't worth it; she'd never hear the end of it from her irritable colleague.

"No, 'm fine. Just a bit restless I think. We've been sat there for hours after all."

She sipped her tea, feeling the warmth spread through her and, for the first time in hours, didn't feel bone tired. She'd been prepared to drop moments ago and now she felt wide awake but strange – somehow she was more aware than ever of her surroundings. She could hear the wind blowing through the trees in the small communal garden of Eaton Square, smell the grass where it had gotten damp in the earlier rain mingling in with O'Brien's newly lit cigarette, and the air cooled her face wonderfully. It wasn't home but it would do for now.

"An' we'd be sat there for hours more if they 'ad their way."

It was another source of contention between most of the staff and O'Brien. The rest of them had the perspective to realise that not all tasks were devised with the expressed intention of taking up all their time, even if they sometimes did, but to hear O'Brien tell it, Lady Grantham made it her personal daily mission to irritate her maid.

"Maybe we should get go back inside?" Anna spoke against the rim of her teacup, concealing her smile and waiting for the inevitable-

"Not bloody likely! Not till I've finished this at any rate."

Anna giggled and earned herself a funny look. When Gwen and then Daisy had first arrived both girls had been rather frightened of the sharp-tongued and looming older woman at the other end of the dining table but Anna had quickly thought up a way to calm them. Baiting O'Brien had become something of a game and it had shown the other girls that she really was mostly bark. Until recently of course and the thought of Mr Bates chilled the returning amusement she used to feel about O'Brien: there was nothing funny about what she and Thomas had been trying to do to an innocent man! But with the men not here it was a lot easier to feel like she had when she first arrived and O'Brien was just an irascible colleague who Mrs Hughes had assured her was like that with everyone.

She sipped her tea in silence for a moment, letting the warmth spread through her and soothe her aching body. Sadly the tea couldn't reach her back but it did wonders for her insides and Anna felt like sighing with pleasure at the relaxed feeling that came upon her – it was a tragedy indeed that she had to go back to work rather than taking advantage of the quiet in the house and her tired body and sleeping. She even had a room to herself for once! But time slipped away from them quickly, even in the quiet, still night and soon enough O'Brien was jabbing her cigarette against the railings to put it out before tossing it out into the road and picking up her tea.

"I hate London."

Anna didn't agree but didn't think it was worth the argument that might come. Whatever reason O'Brien had for disliking the capital she was positive she wouldn't be able to talk the older woman out of it: if she had the power to change O'Brien's mind the last two years would have been a lot less aggravating.

"Why?" She swirled the dregs of her cup and wondered what particularly nonsensical bile she was about to be treated to.

"There's too many people for one thing. And bleedin' Bond Street's here and every time Madam goes near it I end up with a weeks worth of fitting to do, at least the seamstress at home has a good go at getting' it right, 'ere they just buy it off the rack and 'ope for the best."

O'Brien's dislike for clothing that came off the rack was similarly well-documented below stairs but Anna had to admit that she had a point. It did make their lives a great deal easier when the clothes were already fitted and they tended to last longer because they were less likely to be tugged out of place, but she held her tongue. It was sometimes just as calamitous to _agree_ with O'Brien as it was to contradict her: the older woman did on occasion just like to keep ranting without being interrupted and woe betide anyone who tried to interfere with her mood.

"At least they won't have too much chance to buy new clothes on this trip." She thought of the party and the inevitable idleness that would follow before they all made the journey back to Downton. There really wasn't a single window of opportunity for the Crawley women to indulge in the one thing they were all fond of.

"Don't you believe it," O'Brien muttered darkly as she fiddled with her cigarette packet, contemplating another one before deciding against it. Anna could practically see the other woman's mind thinking about the clothes inside that weren't going to mend themselves. "Come on. Or else we'll be here till dusk."

With grudging steps on aching feet they made there way back into the kitchen, closing the door with as much surreptitious skill as O'Brien had used on the way out, before resettling themselves at either end of the table. O'Brien's fingers shot quicker back into the pile and picked up exactly where she had left off and Anna watched her for a moment before sharp eyes met hers and she jumped.

"Somthin' the matter?"

For the first time in what felt like years there wasn't too much malice behind the words and Anna was thrown for a moment, unsure whether she could even think to herself why she had been watching the older maid's progress through the silk other than the appreciation from one worker to another for a job well done.

"Nothing. Sorry."

Anna turned back to her own pile and dug in, determined that she should finish this before the clock struck twelve. By the time Anna looked up again, having put the final touches to Lady Edith's much-despised dress at long last, O'Brien had somehow finished. Sighing and forgetting the second cup of tea she had promised herself, Anna reached for Lady Sybil's dress and got to work, wondering if another fifteen years or so in service would mean she was able to stitch at such a pace. She had expected to be abandoned but instead, after curling her fingers repeatedly to rid them of strain, O'Brien surprised her by reaching for Lady Sybil's chemise.

"Why does she want this one?"

Anna smiled. It was an odd thing – she supposed it was also a consequence of being a lady's maid for too long – but O'Brien's often disdainful opinions of certain items of clothes always amused her. This particular chemise was getting a bit on the small side for Lady Sybil – in truth it would probably be passed on to Daisy within the next few months – but the youngest Crawley daughter was by far the least spendthrift of the family and some things were getting past the point of being adjustable.

"I didn't ask."

"Her ladyship's got one that's almost exactly like this but a bit bigger. We can swap them in the morning."

Anna frowned and looked unconvinced.

"Won't she notice?"

O'Brien settled herself back in her seat, having tossed the chemise aside and picked up Lady Mary's gloves instead to polish the buttons off.

"Her majesty's barely noticed anything in her whole life, I doubt she'll notice a missing chemise if she's not wearing it."

Anna couldn't help but think this was a bit unfair to the Countess, who she knew from personal experience was far from being as useless as Miss O'Brien sometimes painted her, but in the spirit of camaraderie she bit her lip and nodded along, still not sure.

"I meant Lady Sybil. She's sure to notice, I best just alter this one."

"And be here until four in the bloody morning? Not likely. We're doing enough to make sure they're dressed and nothin' more."

O'Brien carefully placed the gloves on top of the neat little pile that they had designated as Lady Mary's, alongside the pile of fur and blaze of colours that belonged to Lady Rosamund and the more subdued but equally luxurious velvets and lace that were undoubtedly the Countess'. With three out of five completed O'Brien picked up Sybil's stockings.

"What's wrong with these?"

Anna stared for a second, having quite forgotten the individual ailments underneath the deluge of things that needed mending before it finally came to her and she practically blurted out:

"Pressing. They need pressing."

O'Brien nodded vaguely, standing up and reached for the iron that had been smouldering all evening, being intermittently used by Anna as she diligently made the girls clothes as close to perfect as she could manage and used with deceptive care by O'Brien as she agonised over ever crease. Without preamble the stockings were tossed onto their makeshift ironing board - the housekeeper had insisted on the Eaton Square one being put away before she had gone to bed - and O'Brien set about them, careful not to burn the fragile fabric.

"You'll have to show me how to do it so delicately."

"For when you're a lady's maid?"

The question was asked innocuously enough but Anna couldn't help the conflict that arose within her. Up until two years ago she had been contentedly sure that her lot in life would be to become Lady Mary's maid when she married Mr Patrick but since then there had been such change. The Titanic, Mr Matthew, Mr Bates and now the looming threat on the horizon that was reminding them all not to take anything for granted and she couldn't see her future nearly as clearly as she once had when she'd sat opposite Miss O'Brien day after day and decided that though the older woman wasn't exactly a ray of sunshine she did had an admirable work ethic and she wanted to emulate it.

"I'm not sure I will be anymore."

"I thought you'd be gettin' ready to be her lady's maid when she married Mr Crawley."

Anna raised a wry eyebrow and like all good servants immediately forgot her own life and instead focused upon her employer's. "You mean_ if_."

"I mean when. Her ladyship's been dithering over them getting engaged-"

"Even if they're still not sure."

"They'll be sure soon enough. They've got a whole summer of mooning over each other at balls and fete's to come yet haven't they? Why do you think no one gets engaged in January? It's no fun courting in the rain."

Anna wasn't quite sure she believed this in its entirety but at this time of the night Miss O'Brien's cynical absolutes about the world were rather more amusing than they were first thing in the morning and she looked up from her stitching.

"I'm sure you're right."

They finished Lady Sybil's pile soon enough and both reached for the beaded dress Anna had been dreading. In hindsight she suspected it would have been wise not to leave this garment till the last when she was so tired she could barely see, and one glance at Miss O'Brien clearly straining a muscle in her cheek to prevent herself from saying anything, clearly told Anna that her suspicion was right. The small, but awkward tear in the side that she had ignored earlier now looked as wide as one of Lady Mary's hats and she felt like crying. The only consolation was that after this her head could hit a pillow and be undisturbed for several blissful hours.

"I'll do this. You can go to bed."

The words washed over Anna but she was half-convinced she wasn't hearing right. Helping at the last minute was one thing but taking over for the sake of someone else was practically unheard of from O'Brien and Anna stared at her for a few uncomfortable moments before the irritability reared its head again.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. And I'm not goin' to offer twice so you best go quickly."

Smiling softly and not about to let the offer go to waste Anna got to her feet and felt them resist with a sharp ache that travelled up her calves but she could hardly sit back down now and so with a final 'Goodnight and thank you' she hurried from the room as quickly as she could. On the servants staircase she turned back to glance into the kitchen and watched for a few seconds as Miss O'Brien's hand flew over the fabric with expert precision, mending the tear with deft movements that might have taken Anna three times as long before scurrying upstairs to her bed.

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